


Hyndrangea

by karenivy



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: (i love this au so much), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Soulmates, hanahaki disease au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-02-22 05:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13160703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karenivy/pseuds/karenivy
Summary: When Q for the first time in his life coughed a few petals of hydrangea flowers, he was not surprised. He knew perfectly well that this moment must finally come.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Hydrangea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10923462) by [karenivy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karenivy/pseuds/karenivy). 



> Hello!  
> It's my first fic in english so I'm so sorry for any mistakes. I tryed my best, but if you find anything wrong with this texk feel free to message me and I will correct errors.
> 
> I hope you will like this fic :)

When Q enters the building of MI6 he felt incredible pain in the chest and hoped that this feeling will end soon. He had to supervise 004’s mission and he can’t be distracted by something so stupid like a cold. Yes, indeed, he has been neglecting a little lately. He barely slept and ate and dressing inappropriately to the weather could be one of the reasons why he got sick. But because of the workflow he can’t  just afford to rest. He supervise eight missions this week, wrote reports for M from the last two, and worked on new prototypes. Disease was not an option.

As soon as he got out of the elevator, he was greeted by an unusual commotion among his employees. Chaos was nothing new here, but today something could be felt in the air. Q almost run to his office, cursing in the spirit of R. He clearly told her yesterday before he left work, that whenever problems arise, they have to write to him at any time.

“R! What is going on here?” Q shouted entering his office. He looked at the young woman sitting at his desk, quickly writing something on the laptop. Strands of red hair came out of her usually perfectly-choked bun, and there were blushes on her cheeks.

“Q, thank God! 003 is in trouble” she cried, not even glancing at him with a look, still fiercely patting the keys. Q curse under his breath, quickly took off his coat and threw it carelessly onto an empty chair.

“ What's happening? After all, I told him to wait and not interfere!”

“Rimozine arrived earlier and with more bodyguards than we expected. 003 tried to catch him and now he has trouble.”

“The fuck you mean by he's in trouble? He was supposed to only look after the docks! I told him not to mix and gather evidence, and not try to kill him!” Q's irritation was well audible in his voice. He walked quickly to the computer. On the screen was a recording from an industrial camera, 003 trying to lose the chase. During the Q mission, he tried not to irritate of the insubordination of agents, but even his patience had limits. He sighed heavily and rubbed his temples.

“R, bring me tea, it will be a long day.” he announced and began to aggressively tapping something on the keyboard. The next 15 minutes was one big chaos. The sounds of guns roared in his ears, and the text flew before his eyes. The most important at that moment was a safe trip 003 from the Rimozine terrorized area of the city.

“I would advise you to take 003 towards the center. A better chance to find a hiding place” Q heard behind him. Brunet broke his gaze from the screen and looked at James Bond, leaning nonchalantly against the door frame.

“You think what I'm trying to do for the last 15 minutes? Do not annoy me, I do not have time for that.” Q snarled, issuing further commands in the direction of 003. Bond only smiled under his breath, went to the desk and peeked the younger man over his shoulder at the screen.

“ Let it turn left and go to the factory.”

"I know" Q said angrily.

“Tell him to go right now.

“I know.”

“Now in this little alley, and then…”

“For fucking sake, Bond, shut up! I know what I'm doing!” Q shouted, turning away sharply and pushing the agent behind him.

“I just wanted to help.” In his voice you could hear amusement, and his eyes was full of joyful sparks. It’s angry Q even more. He knew perfectly well how Bond was light-hearted. During the mission, he always ignored his orders, thinking that he knew better, which sometimes resulted in blasting several buildings.

 Q once again measured Bond with his eyes and after a while returned to rescue 003. Until the end of the action, the older man did not say a word, only with a strange smile looked at the work of the quartermaster. As soon as 003 reported that he was safe, the chest grip of Q slowed, and he smiled, closing his eyes slightly.

“Congratulations, quartermaster. Another successful rescue mission.” Bond stroked his head and walked towards the exit. Q opened his eyes in shock and watched as Bond disappeared outside the door. He still felt as if Bond's fingers was still combing his hair. Chest pain, which he felt from the morning, intensified and began to tremble in his throat. After a while he began to cough and the lungs burned with a living fire.

 

* * *

 

When Q for the first time in her life coughed a few petals of hydrangea flowers, he was not surprised. He knew perfectly well that this moment must finally come. Blue petals fall to the floor, and a mocking smile appears on his face. He promised himself that he would never allow it, but it was inevitable. He felt that stones grew in his stomach, and all the muscles became flaccid. Q crushed the flakes and threw them into the basket next to the desk.

 

He know exactly what it was. Hanahaki disease, lung disease. A very rare, though widely known.

It appears when someone fell in love without reciprocity in his soulmate and loved so much that they knew in his heart that without that person they would die.

Q cursed under his breath and adjusted his glasses. He could not be distracted by something like the illness that almost all the romantics who read stories like this loved.

***

When the next morning Q found a few flower petals on the pillow, he realized that it was just the beginning. A person suffering from Hanahaki is getting more and more of them every day. It was a very known fact.

 

* * *

 

When he was still in high school, one of his classmates fell ill with Hanahaki, but she hid it from everyone - mainly because the object of her sighs was one of the teachers, which everyone learned only after the fact. One day when he came to school earlier than usual, in the corridor he saw her coughing blood-covered flower petals. As soon as she noticed him, her eyes filled with tears and, in a hoarse voice, she begged him not to tell anyone. When Q made a promise, a slight smile crept into the girl's mouth. It was the only time they were talking. Since then, Q often has been watching her. When she was sitting with friends she was happy all the time, and on her lips there was often a smile that did not reach the eyes. Sometimes she went to the bathroom and when she came back with red eyes she pretended that everything was fine. Nobody suspected and nobody cared about her, not even him. In the end, if it was really bad and the disease would progress, the girl could easily undergo surgery. So what if feelings for her sympathy would get lost. Would not it be better? In the end, she would live on. Why die for a person who would never feel anything for you? She would have fallen in love more than once.

 

From week to week, the complexion of the girl looked worse and worse, and the dark circles under her eyes deepened with every sleepless night. Her hair thinned and she could sit down and lose weight in a few weeks. He remembered how one day she started coughing so much that she could not get up and go to the bathroom. The teacher came to her and when he asked if she was feeling good, but the girl, looking at him, began to cough even harder. When the heads of flowers appeared in her hands, a murmur ran through the class. At that moment, Q realized that the girl would not undergo surgery. It will be stupid enough to die for a feeling that will never be reciprocated. The teacher told one of the students to run for a nurse, and he called an ambulance himself.

 

It was too late, Q. thought.

He watched as his friend spat out the bloodstained heads of flowers again and again, and tears ran down her cheeks. He still remembered the shock of everyone when they heard the girl's soft, hoarse whispering in the direction of the teacher.

 

“It's because of you.”

 

Her eyes were empty, and Q knew she had already given up. When the ambulance finally arrived, it was too late. The girl was lying on the floor surrounded by pink flowers, and only crying of her classmates could be heard in the room. Q has never seen such beautiful flowers.

He could not understand why she did not give up surgery, why she chose to die rather than live happily, but without memories of her beloved.

 

He did not understand it until now, as he watched the flowers lying on his palm. He realized that he would rather die than forget about the feelings he gave Bond. He watched the petals with pain in his heart.

 

Hydrangea. He always liked these flowers, but now he was looking at them, he felt an amazing anguish. Such beautiful flowers, and they caused him so much suffering.

 

Over the next days, Q tried to hide his illness and went quite well, considering that he could have asked employees from the office when he felt a coughing attack. He knew, however, that it was only a matter of time before someone found out.


	2. Chapter 2

His whole body was in indescribable pain. Although he wanted it all to end, he was more than aware of the fact that it was just the beginning. It was getting worse day after day and the petals he was spatting out appeared more and more often. He tried to keep it all a secret but with this number of attacks it was really hard.

For now, he was able to excuse himself and lock in the bathroom but rumours of his poor condition circulated around the office quicker than the hurricane.

Each time he was telling himself that he could stand it, just a bit more. Just a little bit more and it will all end. He will stop being unwell, despair will end, pain will end. Like a mantra, like a prayer.

Q was more than aware of the fact that people with Hanahaki Disease don't live long and he couldn't wait for the day when his lungs will finally fill completely with flowers and his heart will stop beating.

The crisis came during the meeting with Max Denbigh. He rarely saw him, but this time he could not send one of his employees as a replacement. He had no idea why C insisted on their personal meeting, especially since they were both aware of their mutual dislike.

When Q entered Max's office, he immediately noticed that the man looked as if he wanted their conversation to come to an end.

"Q," C said, pointing to the chair in front of his desk. Q nodded and sat down at the indicated place.

"I'll go straight to the point. I know you have Hanahaki" Max said harshly. Q moved nervously, but his expression was unmoved.

"And what do you intend to do with this knowledge?" he mocked "Can you complain to M?"

"I know we're not buddies, but..."

"Exactly. We're not buddies, so it's not any of your business."

"This is my business if the success of the mission is at stake!"

"And what?! Will you order me to do the surgery?"

"Goddamn it, Q! You're such a genius, and yet you can be such a moron!

"Thank you for making me aware of it, goodbye." Q said in an icy voice and without saying anything he left the office.

Q hasn't felt such rage for a long time. How could he let Max guess his illness? Max will probably report this to M and force him to do the surgery. Q could not let this happen. He did not struggle with it every day, trying to hide his condition, so that someone like Max would take away his position under the pretext of his illness.

For the next few days, Q felt like Max was everywhere. The man came to all of the meetings on which was Q and appeared on almost every mission he commanded. He felt like Max was watching him even after working hours.

Stress associated with it and the disease led to the fact that day-to-day Q looked less and less. The dark circles under the eyes widened, the skin became sickly and the hair lost its healthy glow. He felt the employees' sympathetic eyes on him and knew that it was only a matter of time before someone would ask what was happening to him.

One week after the conversation of thte two men Q woke up with a swollen throat and felt like his lungs were torn apart by a grenade. After a moment he dragged himself off the bed and barely reached the kitchen, where he drank a glass of water. He thought it would help, but it did not help much. He gave in with irritation and wrote to M that he would not come to work today. There was no reason to convince him that his condition would improve for the hour that he had to start his shift. Equally well, he could stay at home and control the work of his employees here.

Brunet took some medicine for the throat praying that it would work and he made hot tea. He brought a quilt from the bedroom and put it on the couch in the living room. After a while, he turned on the laptop and turned on the television to fly in the background and drown out the persistent silence that prevailed in the apartment. Q finally sat down on the couch, covered himself with a duvet and finally got to work.

A few hours later, the doorbell ripped Q off the computer screen. Reluctantly, he got up and went to open the door. He was surprised to discover that Bond was smiling at the doorstep with a large shopping bag.

"What are you standing for? You will not invite a colleague from work inside?" Bond said and still in a great mood passed the younger man and headed towards the kitchen. When Q finally came to his senses, he followed the blond and found him unpacking the groceries.

"You think what you're doing?" Q asked, folding his arms over his chest.

"Don'y you see? I'm going to cook you a good, healthy dinner because I heard you were sick."

"Seriously? You and cooking?" Q snapped

"How do you think that I survived so many years alone? After all, I do not eat only take-out meals. Have some trust in me."

Q looked with curiosity at the man who ruthlessly settled in his kitchen. He knew perfectly well that if Bond did something, nobody would distract him from the intended idea.

"I see you settled down, so I'm going back to work," Q sighed and sat down on the couch with his laptop. Bond whistled quietly and began to make dinner for them. Brunet tried to focus on his work, but the presence of the other man distracted him all the time. After some time, with resignation, he turned to the kitchen and began to observe James's actions.

"What will you serve us today?" Q asked after a moment

"Pie and mash."

"Seriously? You are coming to a sick man and you cook him a pie with meat and mashed potatoes?" Q shook his head with resignation

"There will also be peas with carrots" Bond said, eyeing him with sparkles of amusement.

"Great! At least I can tell you exactly what poisoned me."

"Have some faith in me and my culinary talent."

"Okay, but you'll take the first bite of this great dish."

"Deal" Bond said with amusement.

There was a pleasant silence in the kitchen, sometimes interrupted by James' whistling, and Q watched as the other man made dinner with a smile on his lips. Suddenly Q felt an unbearable stab in his throat and began to cough.

"Q? All right?" He heard Bond's worried voice. Q only nodded and continued coughing going towards the bathroom. As soon as he closed the door behind him, the first petals of flowers appeared in his hands. The young man cursed quietly and leaned back against the door, closing his eyes.

"Q? What happened?"

"Everything is fine. I'll be with you in a moment "Q replied, trying not to let his voice shake. He quickly tapped his face with water and made sure Bond did not know anything. When he returned to the kitchen, the agent leaned against the table with crossed arms.

"Are you all right?" James looked at the brunette uncertainly.

"Yes, yes. You better finish this dinner because I'm getting hungry" Q he left him and sat on the couch in the living room, putting a laptop on his lap. He only heard Bond sigh loudly and returned to preparing food. Q was trying not to think about the man cooking in his kitchen. After a moment he started to work. Even though he felt ill, he couldn'tt stop supervising his employees.

When some time later Q came back to the kitchen, he saw how Bond ends up setting the dishes on the table.

"I see it's almost ready." Q sat on a chair and smiled tiredly at the man.

"Yes. I was just about to call you, you have a great sense of time. Help yourself" Bond sat down opposite to the younger man and immediately put a large portion on his plate. After a while, Q followed his guest.

Q watched the other man with interest. Gray hair began to appear in his dark blond hair, and the wrinkles around his eyes became more and more pronounced. Although the agent no longer belongs to the youngsters, he still had something that attracted people to him. In the end, he began to understand why everyone was falling in love with him. It was not just about appearance, but about his aura. The self-confidence James emanated. It was his biggest asset. Q admired him for it, because no matter how hard he tried, he would never have achieved that.

"Q, is everything all right?" Bond's voice snapped out of his thoughts. The agent watched him anxiously in his eyes, causing the quartermaster to feel irritated. He did not need sympathy. Especially from him.

"Yes, everything is ok."

They ate in silence for a moment. Q stared at the plate, he could feel the agent's gaze on him. He tried not to look annoyed, and when he heard Bond's loud sigh, he turned his gaze on him. James sat with a slight smile on his face, which completely confused the quartermaster. After a moment, Bond stood up and extended his hand to the younger man. Q hesitantly caught his hand and also stood up. He watched as James approached him and touched his cheek with his other hand.

"Do not hold it against me," he whispered and kissed Q. His lips were warm. Warm and rough. That's what the quartermaster expected when he imagined their kiss. He felt Bond smile and pull him closer. Brunet could not break away from him. He had dreamed about it for so long.

Bond momentarily moved away from Q and headed towards the bedroom, leading the quartermaster behind him. As they stood in front of Bond's bed, he put his hands over his face and looked into his eyes.

"If you want, I can stop," he whispered, his lips almost touching Q's lips.

"No, keep going."

Without hesitation, Bond sank back into his mouth and embraced him in the waist. Q unbuttoned and took off Bond's shirt without taking his lips away from him. The kiss became more and more passionate with each passing moment, and Q still felt the light smile on Bond's face. Brunet, unbuttoned, unbuttoned the pants of the other man and quickly removed his shirt and pants.

Throughout that time Q felt Bond's look on himself. He felt him watching him with his ambiguous smirk and let Q take action. He probably wanted to see how far the young quartermaster would go.

Q looked at Bond and pushed him on the bed. Seeing him on his bed, lying with a smirk on his face and a distinct bulge in the boxers Q, he felt a shiver pass along his spine. When he stood before him naked, he felt no shame. He knew he would soon be dead. It was his only chance to get what he longed for.

Q hesitantly pulled off Bond's underwear and sat on his lap. He saw lust in his eyes. Brunet sank into the mouth of the other man. He felt his hands wandering around his body. He felt chills in every place where their bodies met. He wanted more, he wanted more. He wanted to feel him with all his body. The feeling of pleasure was almost overwhelming.

Q put his hand in Bond's hair and pulled. He noticed that Bond's erection clearly stood out, so he grabbed and squeezed it. James' groaning became louder, he realized he underestimated the boy.

When they broke off on each other's lips, a satisfying smile wandered, and their erections brushed against each other. Without hurrying, Q pulled the lubricant out of the nightstand, and Bond took it without a word. James slightly lifted the brunet and turned them in places so that now Q lay on his back. The agent poured a bit of lubricant into his palm and without unnecessary words put two fingers in Q. The boy grunted softly and clasped his hands on the bedclothes. Bond began to move his fingers and felt the dark man try to relax.

An other man kissed the way to his nipples, which he put in his mouth and licked. Jek Q was sufficient confirmation of the pleasure he felt.

When, after some time, Bond pulled his fingers out of Q, he moved his hips impatiently demanding that the man return to play with him. The blond just smiled half-heartedly and moved his penis to the entrance Q. The boy drew in a whisper of air and tightened his eyes. James did not stop and he went deeper and deeper into it. When the pain began to give way to pleasures, Q moved his hips, giving Bond a sign that he could continue. The man began to move in it and bent down passionately kissing Q.

Only the moans of two men's pleasure and the slight, rhythmic squeak of the bed were heard in the bedroom. It was more intimate and real than anything Q had previously experienced. No fantasy he ever had was equal to that moment. Brunet was trembling under Bond's touch, and his lungs had not hurt him for the first time.

He did not want this to end. Ever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :)  
> I'm very happy to present you the final chapter of this fic. I hope you like it!
> 
> And I will be really glad for any kudos and comment ^^

Q woke up in the throat, but no matter how hard he tried to mend the petals, he could not do it. He felt like something was blowing his throat from the inside. The eyes filled with tears of pain, and the mind tried to find a solution to what to do in such a situation. Desperate, he grabbed a glass of water standing on the bedside table and drank a large sip to moisten the petals of flowers and finally be able to choke them out. When he finally managed to do it, he discovered with horror that it was not the petals that appeared in his hands, but the head of hydrangeas. Through the water he drank, the petals were rolled up and ragged, and their blue color was darker than the previous one he had barked. Q cursed under his breath and threw the flower into the basket. Only after that he looked around the room. He was alone. Bond disappeared.

 

He did not know what to expect. On the one hand, he wanted James to stay in bed with him after waking up, but on the other he knew it was not like an agent. How many times he saw this during his mission? Fast sex and the end. It was just fun. After all, he could not expect Bond to feel anything for him, if he would, then Q wouldn't have been sick with Hanahaki.

 

The feeling of rage was born in hie chest. He was not angry at the blonde, but at himself, that he let him so close to him, that he allowed them to spend the night together.

 

Q clenched his fists.

 

After a moment he changed his mind. He was angry at Bond. He was angry at him. He hated him. He hated him for having so much fun with him and disappeared from his apartment as suddenly as he appeared in it.

 

He also was mad at Max. If it were not for him, n one from his work would know about his illness. He would not have to worry that on a cloudy day go to work, only to hear from M that he must either have surgery or he was fired.

 

But mostly - he hated himself. For hating them. For the fact that he can't force himself to surgery. For being so weak.

 

It was his own vicious circle. His private universe of hatred from which he couldn't free himself.

 

* * *

 

 

When Q came back to work the next day, he headr that Bond had gone on a mission again. This time to Chile. He had to catch some gangster and save the daughter of of the British ambassador. Q did not bother with the details. Mission like this was perfect to supervise by R. In the end, he had to start preparing her to take his place when he will b gone.

 

He knew about it. He will die and cann'tallow his place to be taken by some unskilled person who will screw up the first mission.

 

When Q came into his office, the first thing he did was lie down on the small sofa that stood against the wall. He still felt terrible. He didn't even know why he came to work. Especially that he would throw all his duties onto others under the silly pretext of educating his employees. His throat and lungs still ached and he felt he was having a fever.

 

He knew he should stay home, but he could not stand being there. Everything reminded him of Bond. He could still smell his scent in his bed. He had enough. He must have changed the surroundings.

 

The next days passed in too soon for him to notice Bond's return. He just met him at M one day while reporting, and he was not surprised by the cold look of a blonde and intensifying pain in his lungs. He expected it perfectly. James was famous for the fact that even when he is having an affair with someone he can separate his private and professional life.

"Q" said the agent, noticing the quartermaster. The younger man only nodded and without a word handed the report to M.

 

 When he found himself behind the office door, the chest pain was almost unbearable. He passed by a surprised Eve who, in a worried voice, asked if he was feeling well and headed to his office. He had to rest for a moment. Maybe then he will feel better.

 

He didn't know how much time he was sitting at the desk, but the pain was still. On the contrary, he got worse and Q was barely able to breathe. He felt like he was choking. How he could hear that someone had entered his office.

 

"Q?" The quartermaster looked at the woman standing in front of his desk and tried to remember who she was. He knew her, they had not talked to each other long ago. Who was she?

 

"R?" voice was hoarse and weak. He felt the scratching in his throat all the time, but the water he drank didn't bring relief.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

"Yes, everything is fine. What is going on?"

 

"002 is in trouble, I need your help."

 

Brunet sighed heavily and rose from his chair. He didn't feel well and guessed he that his employees would not bother him if it was not really important. Together with R, they headed to the room where the current mission was dealt with 002. As soon as they entered W  he had a bad feeling. There was chaos in the whole room, but when they spotted the quartermaster they immediately began to report to him in turn on the current situation.

 

Q felt terrible. Probably never in my life the body hurt him so much and felt he had a fever. But he was well aware that in such a situation he could not simply return home. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath to calm down.

 

As soon as he recognized the situation, he immediately he took to action.

 

He didn't know how much time he spent giving orders, but he felt as if he hadn't left the room for eternity. When 002 was already safe, the dark-haired man took off his glasses with relief and rubbed his tired face with his hand. He must take a nap, because he felt really terrible.

 

"Good job, Q" quartermaster looked towards the door, where stood M and Bond, who smiled ironically.

 

"Simply perfect" James laughed "I see that even when you are sick you can save someone's ass."

 

"Some of us know how to do well our job" Q cut himself off and stood up from his chair. Anger hit him unexpectedly when he saw that mocking smile of Bond. He knew that for him their night together meant nothing, but he didn't think that the blond would forget about it and will treat him as if nothing had happened. That's why he distanced himself in dealing with other people. He hated such situations and tried to avoid them at all costs. He almost never trusted others and was furious with himself that Bond had become one of those people he trusted and could be used in a moment of weakness.

 

Q bearly heard the laughter of James and M who were discussing the next mission. He tried to focus on their voices, but the more he strained, the more the sound became blurred. The pain in his lungs intensified, and the light in the room began to irritate his eyes. He tried to draw air, but his lungs began to refuse to obey him. He fell to his knees, grabbing his chest and trying to stop the tears coming to his eyes. He heard screams from a distance, but he could not determine to whom they belonged. After a moment, he felt someone kneel beside him and gently grab his face in his hands. Q looked at the blueest eyes he had seen in his entire life. They were beautiful. They were almost the same color as the flowers that bloomed in his lungs.

 

Q wanted to say he was fine, but instead of the words from his throat, the heads of hydrangeas came out. His whole body was shaken by a strong cough, and over and over again more flowers appeared in his hands. He heard shocked voices around him, but he could not lift his head again and look at them. He closed his eyes, coughing again, tears streaming down his cheeks. I do not think he has ever felt such pain. He wanted it to end, he could not take it anymore. He simply wanted this torment to end and he did not have to suffer any more. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Bond's terrified face in front of him. He tried to tell him that the attack would soon be over, but the only thing he managed to do was mend more flowers.

 

"Q ... Why did not you tell me?" He heard the agent's soft voice. He loved that voice. He loved those eyes and lips that spoke all the time, but even despite the effort he  
couldn't hear wat he says. He felt as if the pain was slowly disappearing, and the image before him became more and more foggy. Q breathed a sigh of relief and smiled slightly. Closing his eyes, he kissed James on the lips and after a moment fell into his arms, falling into the dark forever.

 

* * *

 

 

The funeral day has come. Bond looked with disgust at the blue sky, and a drop of sweat ran down his back. It's been a long time since it was so hot in London. How ironically.

 

James looked at the faces of the gathered people. There were not many of them. As far as he know, they were Q's employees, a few higher-level people, and Eve with M. He knew that Q didn't lead a lush life, but he didn't think ... he just didn't think that so few people would care about his death. He clenched his hands angrily.

 

This shouldn't happen! By what right Q has died ?! And for something as stupid as Hanahaki's disease...

 

Anger was blowing his chest. The quartermaster was an idiot. Instead of to do the surgery, he suffered in loneliness. He should talk to someone about his illness, try to fall out love and, most importantly, he should do the surgery while it was possible.

 

But now it was too late.

 

Q died, and Bond only felt a rage against the younger man.

 

How could you be so thoughtless?

 

Bond looked at the audience and saw Max Denbigh among them. He looked at the bouquet the man was holding. Tulips and scabious. A confession of love and unhappy love.

James looked at the brunette in shock. Did Max know about the meaning of these flowers? He must have. After all, it's Max, this man knows almost everything. When they met with their eyes, the brunet slowly approached Bond.

 

"Q loved you the most in the world ... He did not saw anyone else except you"

 

Bond heard a quiet voice. Max looked at the coffin with an blank expression on his face, and James never wanted to hit anyone as much as at the moment.

 

"You used him as one of those women, that you always fuck on a mission. Did you love him at all? Did you care about him?" Max asked in a stern voice.

 

Bond wondered for a moment and looked up at the sky.

 

_Did he have feelings for Q?_

 

He liked him, he was funny, smurt, always ready to say a sarcastic comment and he led him well during the mission. But did he _love_ him?

 

"No."

 

"In that case, you have no right to mourn him and be at this funeral." C growled in an angry voice and came closer to the grave to put flowers.

 

The agent snorted disdainfully under his breath, he looked at the grave for the last time and walked briskly away.

 

As he walked along the streets of London, he realized that Max was right. He did not love Q, he did not have a deeper feeling for him. He liked him as a friend, that's why he was so angry now. Because the young quartermaster died for such a stupid reason. How could Q fall in love with him? He knew perfectly well how it would end.

 

Bond quickly entered the store and bought a pack of cigarettes. He hadn't t smoked for years, but had to calm his nerves, and that was the best way. James stood on a busy street and put a lighted pipe in his mouth. He inhaled, and after a while he let out the smoke loking up. The sky was still frighteningly blue. Blue just like the petals of hydrangea that led Q to death.

 


End file.
